The slam of Haruka's door seemed to make the very water in his bathtub quiver from the force of the impact, and the dark-haired boy shut his eyes until the reverberations faded into silence. The ringing emptiness left in Rin's wake, though, seemed just as intolerable as his yelling had moments before.
Haruka plunged his head underwater, feeling a weight lift off of him as he did so, as the inky coolness engulfed him. The calm, rushing silence of the water felt better, comforting, different somehow, not empty like the one that filled his days and his head when neither boy spoke to the other for days on end.
Everything was better in the water. Even Rin.
Haruka hadn't imagined, for one moment, that a relationship with his childhood friend, his childhood rival, would be easy, in any sense of the word, but he hadn't expected it to be quite this difficult. He hadn't factored in the reality of actually having to talk to Rin, upholding a conversation like two normal human beings where any and all silences wouldn't be bridged by the splash of water, the roar of it in their ears, and an adrenaline rush.
When they were in water, Haruka had reflected, they were the perfect complements to each other, ruby and sapphire, but as soon as the fluid caress abandoned their bodies, they devolved into nothing but fire and ice, each threatening to consume, devour, destroy the other.
There was no reason to the thrill of challenge that drove them with each other, and maybe that was why even their swimming felt wrong outside of it. Rin swam swift, inexorable, towards a purpose.
And Haruka? Why did he swim?
He thought he'd had the answer for seventeen years of his life, had thought that he was content to drift along like an iridescent wave with nothing but himself and the water and his love for it. And then Rin had come along, ashen and menacing, pointed teeth gleaming, had swum into his world, had summarily burst his bubble with his lethal weapon of equal parts brute force and vulnerability so peculiar to him, and Haruka had found himself morphing into a dolphin. He had emerged from the confines of the transparency that had barricaded him in, had found himself feeling, caring about the presence of the people around him, and then he'd thought he'd had it again. Makoto, Nagisa, Rei. A dolphin was a social animal, so weren't they why he swam?
He had been satisfied with that until Rin, damn him, had flounced in again, all taunting voice and ill-hidden fragility and bite, bringing with him a confusing mess of feeling that had inundated Haruka and torn to shreds what he'd believed.
Because Rin wasn't his teammate, was he? He wasn't his rival, either. Rin was just his… Rin. It had always been that simple for Haruka. But then that annoying boy had to traipse in here talking Dreams and Ambition and Career.
And Haruka didn't, after all, know what he swam for, but it certainly wasn't for that. The expectations of a million and one people weren't something he could swim weighed down with. It felt like somehow cheapening the sanctity of the water if he swam in it with scant care for the swim.
He knew Rin was different. And that was okay. Haruka knew, from whispered conversations late at night when that roommate of the redhead's was covering for him back at Samezuka, that he dreamed of big things. It seemed as if tangled up in Haruka's sheets, lips swollen, cheeks flushed and eyes ashine in wonder at having the other boy like this, was the only time the two of them could have an honest conversation about themselves without resorting to superficial banter or awkward silences.
I want to go to the Olympics, he'd said, and Haruka had said nothing, just squeezed the hand tracing patterns over his side, waist, leg, in silent reassurance. You'll make it.
But then Rin had taken his hand, said, I want you to come with me.
I want to swim with you there, Haru.
Haruka had said nothing, back then, just stiffened for a moment, before taking refuge in contrariness, muttering out his standard I don't care about winning, turning onto his back to face the ceiling. His partner had only snorted in response before climbing up on top of him, occupying his vision, his mouth, his thoughts with the bite of challenge in his kiss that was so acutely Rin.
In hindsight, Haruka should have known.
He should have understood that the stubborn in Rin would take it upon itself to make Haruka bend, even if it meant ruining dates, even if it meant endless, circuitous arguments about Haruka needing to find his dream.
But if Rin could be stubborn, Haruka could be stubborn right back.
So he dug his heels in, adamantly refused to even participate in the freestyle tournaments Rin tried to drag him to, yacking on about how there will be scouts there, and make something of your talent, Haru, goddammit because he didn't want to be forced to make this ever-present choice. He didn't want to pander to Rin's expectations, with the alternative being to be left behind, because that wasn't what his relationship with the redhead was. And if Rin was as crazy about him as he was forever claiming to be, then shouldn't he want to make Haruka happy? Shouldn't he lay off him, because a blind person could see that he wasn't happy, not like this.
And now that— not that Haruka would ever tell him this —Rin had him, mind, body and soul, shouldn't he stop trying to satiate the insecurity that the blue-eyed boy knew lurked just beneath the surface of his cocky façade?
It wasn't like Rin was the only one standing uncertainly at the edge of an abyss, staring at the churning waters below, either. If anything, Haruka had more to lose in this wager. He was the one whom the ruby-eyed boy had left behind in pursuit of a golden dream, and he was the one whom he might leave again with nothing more that a few days' callous notice.
More and more, it had begun to feel like here was nothing more tying them together but a few trellises of sakura, a few lashes of clear water. And these, these were all Haruka had needed, and he'd thought they were enough for Rin, too, to feel the water with Haruka. But now, what with the redhead's pig-headed refusal to see that Haruka didn't swim to win, now he wasn't so sure that Rin didn't just see their difference in ideologies as another competition, in which he much turn Haruka to his way of thinking.
The uncertainty made his uncharacteristically irritable with Rin, short and snappy and leading to even more fights in their already volatile relationship. That, and… well, Haruka was as frustrated as he'd ever been. The redhead was, for the lack of a better term, well, sexy. And really, really annoying. Haruka, who had never known much frustration beyond not being able to swim, or finding that the supermarket was out of mackerel, had, of late, found himself helplessly disappointed when Rin invariably pulled away from him after a few heated kisses. The combination of Rin taking his hands away just as they'd started getting somewhere good, tapering off their contact with a chaste kiss to is forehead, his hair, and the flash of vulnerability, almost fear in his eyes, succeeded in leaving Haruka high and dry and unable to pull Rin back in.
The experience reminded him of the few (literally) wet dreams of his adolescence.
Give him time, he'd thought, and though he dropped out signals left, right and center— a tighter grip on their entwined fingers, a breathless gasp, a lean-in of invitation whenever Rin approached him, his partner seemed to pick up on none of these. It left Haruka to creep into the bathroom after the whirlwind of crimson-carmine had left his house, hand creeping into his pants to take care of his aching arousal amidst the weightlessness of water, heady, lingering touches, the brush of long hair and Rin, the first he'd had to so with any degree of frequency.
"It's because not everyone can read you, Haru," Makoto took a bite of onigiri as he sat next to Haruka on the school terrace. Nagisa was absent, and so, it appeared, was Rei. Haruka had simply raised an eyebrow a the suspicious coincidence before turning to Makoto and regaling him with a do you think Rin doesn't want to have sex with me.
Makoto has spluttered for a moment, his friend calmly opening up his lunch and starting on the mackerel. He was sure that the green-eyed boy knew anyway, just as the two of them always just knew. In fact, he was pretty sure Makoto and known from the very first morning, when Rin had joined them on their daily walk to the train station. He'd known, for sure, from the moment Rin had squeezed Haruka's shoulder just a moment too long before taking the train back to Samezuka, and Haruka was gone about the rest of the day with a faint smile on his face that had refused to go away.
"But I do tell him," he now protested. The blue-eyed boy didn't understand how Rin could miss what he screamed loud and clear.
"Maybe, but you don't tell him." Makoto pointed out.
"It's not my fault he's too thick to get it." Haruka muttered in reply. His friend just looked at him, and he flopped onto his back. He knew what that fondly exasperated look meant.
But you still love that thickheaded idiot.
And the infuriating part was, Makoto was right.
The thought niggled away at Haruka all through he rest of the school day, right up until practice, when the water emptied his head for a few blissful hours. So hard was he trying to forget, just not think, that even Kou-Gou-whatever was impressed by his zeal in practice that day.
It seemed that the doubts had never been gone, though, when they came right back on the way home from practice. Makoto knew not to disturb him in one of these moods, so they walked along in companionable silence as Haruka's mind raced.
So lost was he in his own thoughts that he barely noticed the beach where they had gone on their first not-date, but when he saw it, properly saw it, he gave a little start of recognition. He thought of Rin, then, his embarrassment in spelling out his feelings, the way Haruka had told him nothing and everything all at once. Should he have been less enigmatic? But what, then, was the point of a relationship if there wasn't an understanding?
Should they… break up?
No, no, he shook his head firmly. That would make him just what Makoto had hinted at. A horrible communicator. Making decisions lke this without talking to Rin.
He had to talk to Rin.
He hadn't talked to Rin.
It had been two weeks, and they were still in cold war mode, their limited interactions at the joint practices interspersed with stony silences, presided over by Makoto's worried glances. But it was okay, the rush of swimming with Makoto, Nagisa and Rei was still so, so dear, still a huge part of why he swam. But the thrill of a shark's presence in the otherwise calm, innocuous blue, the scent of blood that lent a raw tinge to everything they did, was missing.
And Haruka missed it all the more sorely, acutely, because he'd gotten so close into it in a world not hazed over and slowed down by the ocean haze.
So, he needed to talk to Rin.
And much as he might make asides about Rin being a coward, Rin embarrassing himself, but what he hadn't realized, in his eagerness to shut himself away from the world, was that he was just as much of a coward, just in a different way. While Rin drowned in his insecurities, Haruka avoided confrontation. While Rin almost inadvertently stepped into cans of worms wherever he went, Haruka preferred to sit things out and let any conflict fade away and be forgotten in silence, or alternatively fester and poison his relationships.
And it seemed as if Rin was less of a coward as far as this was concerned, because when Haruka, unable to bear the contemplation a second longer, had climbed out of his bath, and walked into his bedroom, his long-unused phone had buzzed from the nightstand. Haruka had almost dropped the towel he'd been scruffing through his hair in eagerness he wouldn't admit on pain of death.
cumin over aftr practice 2mrw
Haruka hadn't replied, had tossed his phone to the side and gotten dressed in his nightclothes and into bed, but he'd slept easier that night, dreaming of cool water and floating rather than fleeting flashes of carmine.
Haruka was uncharacteristically apprehensive as he walked home with Rin trailing silently behind him. It was beyond ridiculous exactly how much he cared, how much sway the redhead held over him, but hadn't it been like this from the very start?
Almost imperceptibly, Haruka slowed his pace, so that his companion could catch up wit him, so that he could see Rin's face in profile. The energy that usually animated him seemed multiplied a hundredfold, sizzling from the tips of his fiery hair.
Maybe that was just what the other's proximity did to them, though, because the brunet, for his own part, found himself unable to maintain his usual apathetic zen as he unlocked the door to let his companion in.
And there they were again, that impasse where both of them waited for the other to break the silence. And usually, Haruka would have taken refuge in taciturnity, but he was working to fill that empty void of awkwardness, wariness, maybe even a little resentment that stretched between them, so he spoke.
"So…"
"Look, Haru, I know I was being pushy earlier, and I… I'm sorry." Rin ran a hand through his hair, fidgeting with it as he got out his apology. The brunet didn't reply, but he found it somehow easier to look at his partner then. Maybe Rin wasn't as pigheaded as Haruka had all but resigned himself to, after all.
"But I'm serious. Do you realize how much potential you have? You'd be absolutely amazing if you'd just tap into it."
And there he had to go, ruining the moment again. Honestly, remind him again just why he was dating this insufferable idiot?
"I'm only going to say this once, Rin," Haruka bit out, enunciating every word. "I don't want to take up swimming as a career. I swim for my friends. Not to win, not for trophies, or medals, or glory. Only for the team. Sound familiar?"
For once in his life, Matsuoka Rin was taken aback, speechless.
"Haru—"
It was all Rin could muster, evidently as tired as Haruka was of this never-ending argument. It took a while of them staring each other down before Rin spoke again.
"It can't go on like this, Haru," he sounded defeated. "It just can't."
"What?" Haruka said, voice barely a whisper. An ice-cold chill crept over his spine, snaking tendrils over his heart. He'd only experienced this feeling twice before, both times when s teary-eyed Rin had said that he would quit swimming. So Haruka, too, did what he did best under duress— shunted his gaze off to the side, shut Rin out.
"Hey— hey, Haru," Rin stammered, innumerable fights having sensitized him to the brunet's defense mechanisms. "Don't shut down on me now."
"No, you're right," Haruka got out, barely knowing what he was even saying. "It can't go on like this. I can't keep making the choice of whether I want to be dragged along or left behind, Rin. And it's always a choice with you."
His partner looked taken aback. "It's not like—"
"No, that's exactly what it's like, Rin. Every single moment with you is a challenge, a challenge of getting somewhere first. And it's not like I don't like that— I do, but now—" here Haruka paused, unused to such eloquence, and struggled to phrase the mesh of all he felt in a few concise words. "Now I don't even know whether you like me or competing with me.
It seemed as if Haruka had finally managed to silence Rin, who flinched. And sue him, but Haruka attained some sadistic pleasure in seeing the pain he'd so often suffered at Rin's hands reflected in his eyes.
"Haru…" he began, and the blue gaze stared him down. Haru, what? What was left that Rin could say. The two knew each other too well to get away with a barefaced lie. So Rin floundered for a moment, lips moving in half-formed sentences before his face hardened with steely resolve.
"I… I got scouted. To train in Australia."
There was dead silence, except for a shattering sound only Haruka could hear, a thousand glass pieces scattering rainbow and then disappearing into a roiling abyss.
"That's great, Rin," he said, the blankness back in his voice. "You should go if you want."
''You…" Haruka had bowed his head, but the fleeting glimpse he'd caught of Rin's face, his burning eyes, haunted him.
"You know what, maybe I think I will." Rin said, in a strange, tight voice, and Haruka, standing there, fists clenched, felt the waves of whatever it was that Rin aroused in him welling up, drawing back, and swelling like a tsunami about to hit.
He clenched his fists.
As if in slow motion, as if from the other end of a long, dark tunnel, the brunet heard Rin's retreating footsteps, the bitter murmur of you really don't give a shit, do you.
And the braces broke.
"Listen to yourself talk, Rin!" he spat out, grabbing the taller boy by a bunch of his t-shirt, and forcing him around so that ruby met sapphire. "I don't give a shit? You've got some nerve saying that when you, you, are the one upping and leaving at a moment's notice!"
All his pent up fury was unleashed like a nowaki upon the redhead, who just stood frozen in Haruka's genkan. The shorter boy let loose a wild, bitter, mirthless laugh, which, given his usually apathetic persona, was even more scary. "Oh, but isn't that what you've always done? Do excuse me for forgetting."
Rin just stood there, arms held out in front of his, not sure how to placate this new, furious version of Haruka.
"Jesus, Haru, I wanted you to come with me, especially because I don't want to leave your side ever again." Rin disguised the flash of hurt in his eyes at Haruka's words with a few stinging remarks of his own. "And how am I ever supposed t tell anything with you, with that fucking blank expression eternally on your face? Fuck—" he stopped to take a breath, "I never even know where I stand with you! Tell me, Haru!" he was yelling now, "Do you like me? Do you like anything? Do you feel a goddamned thing for anything except that water of yours?!"
"Oh?" Haruka said, and he was right up in his face now, and he was sure there was a dull flush to his own pallor now. "Is this clear enough for you?"
The force that sparked between them every time they were this close now asserted itself full-throttle, currents of it saturating his entire arm, his fingers as they pulled Rin's face close and kiss him like he'd always wanted, maybe angrier, rougher, hungrier than he'd always wanted. The unexpected aggression led him to grab roughly at Rin's clothes, hair, anything, until the shared the pain like they shared the water.
When Haruka pulled back , the redhead's pupils were blown dark, his teeth bared in a dangerous snarl as he pushed Haruka down to demand recompense.
Haruka had no idea how, but here he was, flat on his back, on his bed, with Rin leaning over him. The redhead's clothes were in a haphazard pile at the bottom of his bed, and Haruka's had been lost somewhere amidst the deep, searching kisses that wiped all coherent thought from his mind. He would never admit it to him, but Rin's kisses alone had the power to reduce his vocabulary to 'Please, Rin!'
He didn't beg now, though. Instead, he yanked the taller boy up by his hair so their erections rubbed together, and choked back a moan, whispering hoarsely.
"Fuck me before I end up doing it to you instead."
Rin growled at that, knowing full well that neither could resist a challenge posed by the other. So he gripped their dripping arousals and began to pump them in tandem, while the spit-wet fingers of his other hand reached around to probe into the tight ring of muscle there. And Haruka wanted to groan in pain, voice his discomfort, but found his mouth occupied by Rin's in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and wickedly sharp teeth that drew the rusty tang of blood wherever they bit down too hard..
"Nnnnh…" the brunet cried out Rin's finger breached his entrance completely. The redhead was cursory with the preparation, his anger showing in the way he barely waited for Haruka to adjust to one finger before adding another, then another, until he was here fingers deep.
"Ah—nnnn… Rin, too fast," Haruka managed to get out amidst the arching of his body when his lover dragged those wickedly talented fingers over his prostate.
"It's not too fast if you're letting out that kind of noise," Rin grunted out. And goddamn him, he was right.
He momentarily let go of their dicks to pinch Haruka's nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. And that, that made Haruka all but come as he let out a lewd noise and threw his hand over his mouth to save himself from any further kind of embarrassment.
Rin was evidently displeased with his lover's action, because the next thing Haruka knew, he was lining himself up and pushing into him. The brunet could only stifle his cries until he was face to face with Rin. Then Rin grabbed his hands and forced them away from his face.
"I wanna see just how loud I can make you," he whispered hoarsely, beginning to thrust. He built up a momentum, with the first few shallow thrusts quickly graduating into deep, sharp ones.
If Rin hadn't been holding both his hands above his head, he would have put them over his mouth, because the noises he made when Rin brushed against that one spot were truly embarrassing.
"Ughnnn… Rin, stop, too much, too much," he groaned out when Rin's thrusts steadily gained speed, driving them both closer and closer to the precipice.
"I know, Haru, me too, me too." Rin muttered in his ear, reaching a hand over to palm Haruka's aching cock. It only took one, two strokes of Rin's hand before Haruka was coming undone, with the loudest noise Rin had ever heard him make. The convulsive contractions of his walls sent Rin over the edge, too, and he came with a shout of "Haru, I'm—!"
As soon as Haruka had energy to do so, he disentangled himself from Rin.
"Leave, Rin," he whispered.
And it was such déjà vu, hearing the tread of the redhead's retreating footsteps. The only difference was that Haruka couldn't stop him, this time. He had no right to. And it was just fucking ironic; too, that the closest kind of union hey could have shared had only served to tear them further apart. Them clawing at each other, trying to crawl into the other's throat, voice, body, soul had only put valleys between them.
The places when Rin had burned him, bruised him, taken his blood, were the places that still throbbed with lingering impact. And it was definitely weird that Haruka cherished each burn, every bruise Rin left on him, on the outside and on the inside.
Because those, at least would last forever.